


Old Scars

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [14]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life, post-retirement/return, references to NCIS and Hustle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which Napoleon and Illya discover the hard way that old wounds can still hurt.





	Old Scars

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt 14 of Inktober for Writers: Haunted

Going back to U.N.C.L.E. had been, for the most part, a rewarding experience. Napoleon had found that they hadn’t lost any of their skills (thanks in part to the private eye service they had set up during the time they had been retired). They fit into their old roles seamlessly, even though they were of considerably advanced age.

There was one catch, however—deep cover missions that required them to spend some time apart. They were always quick to catch up, however, and spend quality time together once again.

Today, it was catching up in a London bar.

“Any good cons lately?” Illya asked.

Napoleon smirked.

“Oh, a few,” he said. “No one who didn’t deserve it, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Illya said. “I have utmost faith in you using your devious skills for good.”

“Well, thank you, Tovarisch,” Napoleon grinned. “And how about your undercover shenanigans?”

“Oh, I’ve been practically bursting to tell you…” Illya said. “Napoleon, that Medical Examiner in DC I told you about? He’s going to be retiring, and they’ll need someone to take his place, and it looks as though I’ll be a shoe-in for the position without any help from Blanche!”

“Well, congratulations!” Napoleon grinned. “That’ll be the perfect cover for you; I know you’ll…”

Napoleon suddenly trailed off, going slightly pale as he glanced over Illya’s shoulder, seeing someone enter the bar.

“Napoleon?” Illya asked, concerned. He turned, and he, too, froze.

It was a much older Gerald Strothers, the ex-U.N.C.L.E. agent from Berlin, who had put Napoleon through so much suffering during the Summit Five Affair.

“I… I need to take a walk,” Napoleon said, paying for the drinks.

And Illya saw red. Napoleon, who was one of the strongest people that Illya had ever known, and yet one look at this ghost from their past was enough to send him into hiding?

He clenched a fist, contemplating tapping Strothers on the shoulder and then giving him a right hook, but he stopped himself.

Napoleon needed him more.

He found Napoleon outside, and he gently drew an arm around him.

“Shall I go back and punch him across the face?”

“No,” Napoleon sighed. “I’m more upset with myself for letting him affect me.”

“Napoleon, after what he put you, it is only natural his presence would have an effect on you. It certainly did for me.” Illya scowled again.

“Even more than 25 years after the fact?”

“Old wounds can sometimes hurt the most,” Illya sighed. “I have half a mind to go back there--”

“No,” Napoleon said. “He’s not worth our time. I’d much rather spend this time with you before we both have to get to work again. Let’s just banish this particular ghost from our past.”

Illya nodded. Napoleon was right of course. And Strothers still looked miserable and alone.

But as for them, even after all this time, they still had each other.


End file.
